Don`t Complain: Feel Compassion For The Fat

November 26, 1987|By Ann Landers.

Dear Ann Landers: I couldn`t believe the letter from the woman who complained about people who misjudge the space on the bus and sit down on her leg. The fact that they do not apologize strikes her as a form of bigotry.

That whining letter really got to me. What actually happens when grossly obese people sit next to you at a concert or ball game or in a bus or airplane is that their bodies extend beyond their seating area into yours. When they hang over into your space, they usurp the room you paid for.

This has happened to me several times, and I don`t recall a single instance when the fat person said, ``I`m sorry.``

One might argue that such an occurrence is nothing more than an inconvenience, but that is not always the case. On one occasion I attended a seminar and was forced to sit in an awkward position when a whale of a woman squished me into a corner. That squishing resulted in $120 worth of chiropractic treatment.

Please don`t say I should have taken another seat. People were standing in the back of the hall and sitting on the floor.

Do I resent obese people who take part of the space I paid for? You bet I do. Your correspondent may consider it a form of bigotry, but I view myself as the victim rather than the other way around. So what`s the solution, Ann?

Offended in Schenectady

Dear Offended: I have no solution, but I ask that you be compassionate. Your inconvenience is temporary. The fat person is miserable a great deal of the time and must deal with problems that normal-size folks cannot even imagine.

Dear Ann Landers: I am 50 years old and own a business near Tupelo, Miss. I had an affair with a younger woman for all the reasons you write about in your column. My wife found out, and a furor arose.

We have three children, ages 7, 10 and 14. Rather than leave and take the children, my wife packed up the kids and their clothes and took them to my lover`s house. She told her, ``Since you managed to get my husband, I think you ought to have the kids, too.`` The woman was absolutely speechless.

After three weeks of dealing with the kids, my lover gave me an ultimatum, ``Either the kids go or I go.`` My wife refuses to take the kids back until I give up my lover. Please help me with this mess.

Trouble in Tupelo

Dear Tupelo: The kids belong at home with their mother, and so do you. Tell your lover it`s over.

Get some joint counseling. You both need it. Your wife did a terrible thing when she used those children as a club to knock you back in line. And you, sir, need to stop fooling around and start to behave like a family man.

Dear Ann Landers: When I am asked if I work, I say, ``Yes, I am a homemaker, and I have four children.`` Often the next thing I hear is, ``I mean, do you have a real job?``

If being the mother of four isn`t a real job, Ann, what is? I cook meals and bake from scratch, clean house, sew costumes, balance the checkbook, provide taxi service and run a 24-hour-a-day counseling service for my family. Although I receive no paycheck, I am as fully employed as any professional.

Please, Ann Landers, print this for all homemakers who are asked this same stupid question.

Old-Fashioned in Dothan, Ala.

Dear Dothan: The long-term benefits of your job are better than those of any executive position I know of. Be proud.